by N E Riggs
“Alright,” he nodded. It was a small consolation, but it was the best he’d get. No matter where the gateway appeared on Earth, he wanted to go through it. He didn’t know what he’d do if he got back home – if he was close enough to Boston, he’d probably never leave. Even if the gateway opened somewhere far away, like Australia or Africa or something, he still wanted to go through it, to smell the air of his home world, to know he could reach John, even if he never did.
He looked down at his com pad. It was late now. He finished the rest of his beer. “I should go now,” he said, standing. “They think there’s going to be a riot tomorrow, protesting that new law. We’ll be playing police.” He tried not to think too much about the new law, or he knew he’d end up on the side of the protesters.
“Take care of yourself,” Brigid said. “The last riot was pretty bad.”
David winced, remembering the incident with Met Prous and the controversy surrounding his trial and sentence. The protesters at Castle Eternal, where he’d been, had been dealt with easily enough. Not so with the protesters at Jigok or Jod. The crowds had gone wild and, though he’d only heard about it days later, lots of people had been killed, including two Sword Priests. The rioters who’d killed the Sword Priests had been taken in and tried before Law Priests. They too had been sentenced to exile on Jahan. That had sparked another riot, which had taken place while David and the sixth division were off world.
He was glad he’d missed those riots. Just watching clips of them on television was bad enough. The Sword Priests, fearing the crowds, had started stunning people early on. More and more people had joined the protest because of that, and the whole incident had gone on for days. More people had been killed, including Sword Priests, and lots of the rioters had been taken prisoner. The Law Priests were spreading those trials out, hoping to keep them quiet to avoid more riots.
In the wake of the recent riots, the Law Priests had passed a new law. Throughout Pardis and Jigok, there was now a curfew on travelers – with ones newly arrived and confused exempted, of course. In Jigok, it was also now illegal to stage a group protest. David’s inner American rebelled against the injustice of that. And it wasn’t like a law against protests in Jigok would do much good – the residents would just travel to Pardis to voice their unhappiness with the government. Personally, David thought they were right to do so, but he still had to do his job and police the protest. He just hoped it didn’t erupt into violence. He fought monsters, not people.
The next morning, they were placed at Jod this time, just outside the Mitra Judiciary Building, the main administration building for Law Priests. It was a large, imposing structure with few windows and a carving of a chain just above the main entrance. The carving worried David – it suggested the Law Priests were more interested in sentencing than justice. The legendary weapon carried by the first Law Cardinal had been a chain – he couldn’t remember the name. Besides that, Law Priests weren’t interested in justice, because they knew if a crime had been committed. David should probably just accept the symbol, but it still troubled him.
People constantly went in and out of the building – just because there was going to be a protest didn’t mean that the world stopped. There were already a few protesters there before dawn, standing around when the sixth division got there, waving posters and shouting. More people quickly arrived, shoving and jostling and yelling constantly.
Crowd barricades lined the route to the front door, so people with business at the Mitra Judiciary Building could get through. Hue and some of the other Sword Priests stood at the doors with the guards, to check the people who wanted to get inside. David had to keep yelling at people to get back, or they’d have long since pushed down the barricades. “Calm down!” he shouted, barely audible over the rest of the noise. “This isn’t helping anything! You need to do peaceful protests, like Gandhi!”
Some of the nearer protesters gave him a weird look at that – which he deserved, since the protest was peaceful now, and because no one here knew Gandhi. “Freedom now!” more of them shouted, waving their posters and com pads. “Travelers have rights too!” The crowd surged, pushing against the barricades again. David put his back to it, trying to hold them back. Though the barricade was braced against the ground, it still slipped forward.
“Calm down!” came a voice over a loud speaker. The barricade stopped moving as the crowd settled. David looked up to see a man standing on top of a car not too far away. “Our voices will be heard! Freedom for travelers! Equal rights for travelers!”
The protesters took up the chant again, holding up their posters. They stopped pushing though, so David relaxed a bit. A news crew stood nearby, filming everything and interviewing some of the protesters on the edge of the crowd. “Please don’t push anymore,” he said to the people at the front of the crowd.
“What are you going to do, shoot us?” a man asked. David looked up and down the crowd, but couldn’t tell who’d spoken.
“No,” he said, putting his hands on his hips. “But if this turns into a massive riot, you won’t be helping yourselves. It’ll just make things worse.”
“Sword Priest scum!” someone shouted.
Another person yelled, “Dog of the Law!”
A few people started booing, and someone threw a rotten tomato. David sighed, brushing as much off his shoulder as he could, trying not to wince at the smell. Nobody tried to push past the barricades again, and most returned to shouting slogans, so David just stood there, trying to look intimidating.
“You still believe that Bantong doesn’t hate travelers?” came a voice from his right. David frowned and turned; the voice sounded vaguely familiar. He saw Malmis standing a short distance away, leaning against the barricade, eyebrow raised. The man wore a loose blue coat and a low-cut shirt, looking very metrosexual. The people nearby quieted down, looking at Malmis expectantly.
“Malmis!” David said. “What, do you come to every protest?”
Malmis smiled languidly. “I believe in equality and freedom. When injustice is occurring, how can I not stand against it?” The crowd nodded and called out in approval.
David frowned. The first time, he’d figured Malmis was just another dissenter, if an intelligent one who could get others to listen to him. Now he was beginning to think Malmis might be someone influential. “Hey, I think protesting bad laws is good too,” he said, holding out his arms. “And no one’s stopping you from expressing your opinions.”
“The Eternists have already begun silencing us,” Malmis said, shaking his head. “We have to leave our home to have our voices heard. And when we do, we’re attacked and blamed for it.” He leaned closer to David. “This is the truth of Bantong. It uses pretty words to lure people in, but it hates all travelers.”
“It does not,” David said, running a hand through his hair. “I know it’s not the same as being on your home world, but you have shelter and food and support. Since there are no gateways back, what else do you want them to do?”
Malmis reached out towards him. David stiffened, wondering what Malmis was going to do this time, hoping it wasn’t going to be another kiss. But Malmis placed a finger on David’s chest, just above his heart. “I want the people of Bantong to stop lying,” he whispered, barely loud enough for David to hear. He leaned back then and spoke loudly enough for the crowds to hear. “The priests always say they are on our side, but are they? Law Priests give us unjust sentences! Sword Priests attack and kill us! Heart Priests refuse us treatment in favor of locals! Lost Priests abandon us to the slums of Jigok, not caring for us if we have trouble getting jobs! Passion Priests tell us only about gateways home after they have disappeared! And Beloved Priests turn a blind eye on everything!”
The crowd roared in approval, waving posters and pushing against the barricades again. David stumbled then pushed back. His arms shook as Malmis’s words about Passion Priests repeated themselves in his head. Brigid had only learned about the gateway just before it appeared. He believed
her and trusted her. But her information had originally come from Passion Priests. How long had they known about the gateway to Earth before they told Brigid about it?
Screams started from behind him, and he thought he heard the hum of a agitator. He whirled around to see the crowd leaping over the barricades not far from where he stood. People screamed and threw rocks, knocking over everything. Some Sword Priests had their agitators out. “Stop this!” he cried, but his voice didn’t carry. He turned to look at Malmis, who stood calmly as the crowd surged around him. “They listen to you!” he shouted. “Stop them!”
Malmis smiled sadly. “We will be heard,” he said. “If this is the only way, so be it.” A group of young people hurried in front of him, pushing against the barricade. Then David was too busy to look for Malmis through the crowd.
He held his barricade for a few seconds longer, but people crashed into him from behind. David grunted as he fell to the ground. He wrapped his arms over his head and winced when someone ran over his leg. He quickly pulled himself back to his feet – if he stayed on the ground, he’d be trampled to death. Looking around wildly, he saw a mob rush the doors to the Mitra Judiciary Building, a Sword Priest get pulled under as people ran screaming, and smoke begin to fill the air. The riot he’d feared had begun.
Reluctantly he pulled out his agitator, making sure it was on stun. He didn’t want to shoot anyone, but someone would get killed at this rate. Maybe if a few people in the crowd were stunned, the riot would stop. “Stop!” he yelled again. “You need to calm down!” He pointed his agitator at the people closest to him.
A furious young man met his eyes. He shouted something David couldn’t hear and lunged at him, arms outstretched. Almost without thinking about it, David shot him in the chest. The young man collapsed in front of him. David stared at him in shock for a moment, his hand shaking. He’s not dead, he told himself firmly. The young man’s chest rose and fell steadily. David stood above him so he wouldn’t be trampled. “Calm down!” he called once more.
The crowd didn’t listen, and David turned his agitator on yet another person. Soon he was surrounded by unconscious forms. Slowly, the rioters started to lose their momentum. He could see those at the edge of the crowd slink away. Others, friends of those who had been knocked out, took up their unconscious comrades and brought them to safety. David wasn’t sure if he was supposed to arrest rioters or not, but he didn’t stop anyone from leaving. He knocked a woman out then helped her friend pick her up and carry her away.
As the area cleared, the noise finally died down enough for him to hear a woman screaming. He froze; the voice sounded familiar. He whirled around and ran a few feet before he screeched to a stop. Niam was crouched on the ground, Conal lying motionless in her arms. Beside her, a man with green hair and skin lay face down, his back smoking. “Oh, God,” David whispered, clapping his hands over his mouth. Conal was dead.
He sank to the ground beside Niam and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Her screams grew louder, sharper, and she held Conal tightly, her face buried in his hair. David closed his eyes, wanting to say something but coming up blank. So he held Niam tightly as she sobbed.
Anur hurried over moments later. She and David shared a pained look, then Anur sank down on Niam’s other side. She too wrapped her arms around Niam. “I’m sorry,” she said. Niam started crying, hoarse, broken sounds that tore at David’s heart.
He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. Bellon came over too. He coaxed Niam into letting go of Conal. Anur pulled Niam into a tight embrace, and David and Bellon picked up Conal’s body. They walked slowly towards a gateway to Valal, a short distance from the Mitra Judiciary Building. Other Sword Priests carried bodies too; one was a brother named Percy who David knew a little because he was Alosh’s friend, but the rest of the dead were rioters. Ten civilians total, David counted, feeling numb. Hue met them at the gateway. He placed his hand on Conal’s forehead. “May Aeons speed your journey to the life beyond. May the Yesterlords watch over you and hold you tight as you fight forever beside them,” he said. Then he motioned David and Bellon through the gateway.
They passed through another gateway to a large room David had never been to before. Looking around at the coffins where his fellow Sword Priests placed the bodies, he didn’t have to ask what this place was. A Heart Priest walked past each body, checking them before pushing shut the lids. David looked one last time at Conal’s dark skin and pale hair and youthful features before the lid was shut over him. He’d never seen Conal again, he realized.
To keep from crying, he glanced to the side, where two other Sword Priests placed the man who’d died beside Conal. “What happened?” he asked.
“I saw,” Bellon said. “Vikor was looking the other way, making sure a child didn’t get trampled. That man shot him from behind with a gun. Garna saw and killed him.”
David wrapped his arms around himself. He’d had no idea. He’d been far away and there had been nothing he could have done, but guilt still twisted his stomach. He could still barely believe it. Surely a person couldn’t die that easily, that suddenly. Memories of the night his parents died rose in his mind, and he crushed them ruthlessly. He rubbed at his eyes. Lugh, a tall Brother who’d brought in Percy, paused to press a hand on David’s shoulder. There were tears in his eyes too.
“This is why it should be harder to become a Sword Priest,” Bellon said softly, walking back through the gateway.
For a moment, David stared after him in silence. Then he rushed through the gateway after him. “What do you mean by that?” he asked tightly, grabbing Bellon’s arm to stop him. “You shouldn’t say things like that when a friend’s just died.”
“I meant no insult,” Bellon said, stepping away from the gateway. David barely noticed that they were in the main terminal in Valal as people pushed impatiently past them. “Do you think I don’t grieve for him too?” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Vikor should have never been made a Sword Priest. He was brave, yes, but with talents like his, this was the only possible ending.”
“He wanted to fight,” David said. “Wanted to help people.”
Bellon nodded. “Yes. I admired that in him. But a person doesn’t have to be a Sword Priest to help others. You should stop too, Kemp.” He grabbed David’s shoulder. “You mean well, but you aren’t cut out for this life. You should quit now, while you still have your life.”
David looked away. Finally he said, “We should go back and help Anur with Niam. And don’t you dare say any of that where Niam can hear you!”
Snorting, Bellon said, “I’m not completely insensitive, you know.” Together he and David returned to Jod. Most of the sixth division was still there, cleaning up. A few unconscious civilians had been handcuffed under Hue’s watchful eyes. None of the other rioters lingered, which was probably for the best. David knew he’d be angry at them later for starting this mess, but for now he just felt tired. Most of the Sword Priests picked up the crowd barriers and cleaned up the posters that littered the ground.
Niam still laid in Anur’s arms. Silent now, she held Anur tightly. David and Bellon helped her to her feet. It was awkward since she wouldn’t let Anur go. Finally they got her up and through the gateway. They returned to the sixth division’s quarters in Oisin Tower and took Niam to her room. Anur sat on the bed with Niam’s head in her lap while David and Bellon sat nearby. They said nothing. Eventually Niam fell asleep.
*
David stood in a large hall in his dress uniform. The outfit looked similar to his usual uniform, but the material was stiff and flimsy. Maybe it was just the situation, but the dress uniform felt scratchy and the jacket collar seemed tight around his neck. He clasped his hands behind his back to keep from fidgeting. The sixth division stood in neat rows, and Rolan and Hue stood before them. Two coffins draped in red lay on a raised platform.
“We commit Percy Jair and Conal Vikor into your tender care, Yesterlords,” Rolan said, arms raised, three fingers on each hand rai
sed. “They served Aeons well in this life, and they will serve you loyally in the life hereafter. May their swords be ever sharp and their aim ever true.”
“Fight the eternal battle, Percy Jair,” the sixth division said in unison. “Fight the eternal battle, Conal Vikor.” Rolan lowered his arms, and everyone stood for a long moment in silence.
David stared down at his feet. This wasn’t the first Bantonan funeral he’d been to – they held one every time a Sword Priest fell in battle, though the funerals usually had to wait till after the current mission. He hadn’t really known the priests who’d died since he joined the sixth division. He’d stood still and solemn, trying to be respectful but mostly trying not to think too hard. He couldn’t stop himself now. Conal he’d known and liked. For the first time, death felt real. His stomach twisted in guilt, that he hadn’t been able to protect Conal. He knew the feeling was stupid – he’d been nowhere nearby Conal when he’d been killed. He felt guilty anyway.
“Do not mourn, Brothers and Sisters, families,” Rolan said. David jerked his head up; he hadn’t realized the moment of silence was over. “Percy and Conal are not gone, they’ve merely moved on to the next life. We will see them again one day, when we fight together with the Yesterlords.” He stepped over to the table set up on the far side of the room and picked up a glass of wine. “Let us drink to their memory.”
The Sword Priests each took a glass. When everyone had one, they raised their glasses in unison. “Percy,” they said and drank. “Conal.” They drank again. David swallowed hard as the wine seemed to burn his throat. Was the wine stronger than it had been for the previous funerals? Or did it just seem stronger?
Briefly he wondered what happened to the coffins after the funeral. Would the bodies be buried or cremated or something else? He’d never asked. He grimaced to himself. Maybe he didn’t want to know.
